


You're in My Veins (and I cannot get you out)

by Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee



Series: Sladiver Song Fics [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Kind of Canon Compliant, M/M, Oneshot, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee/pseuds/Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee
Summary: Everything will changeNothing stays the sameNobody here is perfectBut everyone's to blame





	You're in My Veins (and I cannot get you out)

“Felicity wants everyone to stop by her place,” Diggle walked down the stairs into the lair. “She said something about team building, don’t know what she meant by that but I’m not about to try to argue.” Oliver slid the fletching jig clamp down, letting the feather vein press flush against the shaft. It was very precise work, and his eyes stayed fixed on it as he made sure it was perfectly aligned.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” he replied, frowning at his work. “I just need these to set and clean up a bit and then I’ll head over.” Oliver reached for the rag next to him, cleaning up the bit of glue that had spilled. He didn’t hear Diggle leave and after a moment, looked towards him. John was watching him with a serious expression.

“You alright man?” there was concern in his voice, and he was looking at Oliver as though he expected to see something. The archer set the cloth aside, smiling as he replied to the question.

“I’m great,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be? We won. Slade’s locked up, his army’s taken care of. We did good.”

“I’m going to forget that those are the words I’ve wanted to hear you say for over a year now,” Diggle remarked, pulling out a stool. “Remember last year? When Ted Gaynor showed up on your list, and Blackhawk turned out to be behind all those armed robberies?” Uncertain to where this conversation was headed, Oliver nodded and Diggle continued. “It’s not the best example, but I do know what it’s like to have someone you trusted come back as someone you can’t recognize. Fighting people with a familiar face can take a toll.”

Oliver rested his arm on the table, the movement tweaking a pulled muscle in his back. John was still watching him seriously, but once again, the archer offered a smile brushing away the concern.

“I’m fine, Digg,” he replied. “I really am.” He could see that the other didn’t fully believe him. “A face that’s familiar isn’t necessarily distressing. Slade Wilson isn’t going to haunt my thoughts.” John stood, only partly convinced. “Let Felicity know I’ll be there soon.” The archer told his friend.

“Don’t be a stranger, Oliver,” Diggle replied. “You’ve got a team now, don’t forget that.” Oliver nodded.

“I won’t.”

After a minute, Diggle left him alone again, and Oliver turned back to his arrow, staring at the shaft for a long time. Unburdened by company, he didn’t try to straighten his shoulders as they slumped. They had returned from Lian Yu just a couple hours earlier. Returned to a city still shocked from the horrific attack it had faced. A city that needed the Arrow. Only, Oliver wasn’t sure how much of the Arrow was left.

The Arrow was the Oliver Queen that had survived the past few years. The Arrow had been forged by fire and shaped by so many different people. One of those people had been Slade Wilson. Looking back, he was the one who had truly laid the foundations, the one who had taught Oliver lessons he would carry throughout his entire life.

Without Slade Wilson, there would be no Arrow, which was ironic, the archer realized, because without Oliver Queen, the one who had injected Slade, lied to him, there would be no Deathstroke. Oliver couldn’t help but laugh quietly to himself, the sound devoid of any real amusement. They hadn’t made each other better people, they had twisted and broken each other into something else. They had infected each other, and now, Slade Wilson was so much a part of him that Oliver would never be able to really let him go.

He had told Diggle Slade Wilson wouldn’t haunt his thoughts and that was a lie. Slade Wilson would haunt every step he took, every arrow he shot, every moment he lived, every breath he breathed, Slade would be there.

And maybe, years ago, there was a chance, maybe there was something there.

_He woke in the grey light of morning, the sun had yet to top the horizon, but birds were already singing outside. Oliver stayed still for a moment longer, listening to the steady heart beating in the chest under his head, feeling the warmth radiating from the body pressed against his._

Things were different, not as fucked up and twisted as they were now.

_The fire crackled as he stared into those dark eyes, the intense gaze feeling as though it were burning into his soul, leaving him bare to the world. But he didn’t hide any secrets from those eyes, he let them see everything, every crack, every flaw. Because when those eyes studied him, all those things, every broken piece felt as though it fit just right._

That time was never coming back. No matter how much his chest ached, how much he longed for it, all of that was gone. He would never speak of it aloud, after all, Oliver didn’t know how much of it was ever truly real.

_The blue, azure water was pierced by beams of sunlight, sparkling off of the scales of freshwater fish that darted away from the large shape. It was quiet underneath the surface the peace undisturbed, unsullied. He surfaced, feeling air against his wet face, and swam over to the bank to look up at his companion._

_“Did you see something?” he asked, watching the other’s head shake as his gaze slowly wandered back to Oliver. Slade snorted with amusement, crouching next to the water and reaching out with one hand._

_“You look absurd,” he pushed the hair out of Oliver’s face. “Keep this up and you might as well wear a mop.” Oliver caught his hand as Slade moved it down for him and stepped up onto the bank._

_The sun was unusually warm, the weather pleasant. Oliver dried off and pulled on a pair of loose black pants before letting his face tip upward for a moment, missing the sensation of sunlight. He opened his eyes again to see Slade regarding him._

_“Look at this,” he held out a book for Oliver, who took it, sitting on the grassy ground, unable to stop a small chuckle._

_“Where did you find this?” he asked, looking back up at Slade. He shrugged, sitting down to look over Oliver’s shoulder._

_“Fyer’s old camp,” he replied. “Turns out you didn’t blow all of it up.” Oliver opened the book, scanning through the preface and moved back until he was leaning against Slade, sitting in between his legs as the other reached around Oliver’s body to change the adjustment of the book._

_“Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide…”_


End file.
